


Il mio canto libero sei tu

by prometheus101



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, POV Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, self prompt: how long of a scene about kissing can I make without them actually kissing?, so a very whipped pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheus101/pseuds/prometheus101
Summary: The tradition, it is said it dates back to when the ancestors had inhabited for the first time the green mountains become the home of that people, recite that everyone must be able to give a name to the kisses they wanted to give to others.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Kudos: 9





	Il mio canto libero sei tu

**Author's Note:**

> New fandom, so I tried something new (sort of). I know it is very cheesy, but I just had the urge to write it hearing [this song](https://open.spotify.com/track/2SvXqxiG2ntfkEWvuABT7u?si=mGZ08DFUS_ui2C_K_CRX0A). Hope you can enjoy this lil thing.

The tradition, it is said it dates back to when the ancestors had inhabited for the first time the green mountains become the home of that people, recite that everyone must be able to give a name to the kisses they wanted to give to others. 

That’s why when you tilt your body so that your breaths turn into one, you close your eyes.

You have been granted by Time and by Destiny to maintain only some of your people’s customs. You didn’t let them take also this silly thing away from you, and you’re amused to think that, after all, this little victory resembles one of a child who makes a tantrum and only once in a while is indulged by strict parents. But it made sense for you, it was natural even, to not let this little memory die when everything else did. When you were able to put your hand on a rag and that sticky substance that also looked like ink, this memory was one of the first that you wrote, under the road’s lights that slowly faded, and one of the few you could fit in before the space you had at your disposal to remember your old life was over.

At that moment you almost feel like you hear your father’s voice, when he explained it to you for the first time when you were a child and hung from his lips. “Kissing, any kiss, is a serious thing.” he had said, voice ringing and ready to burst into a fit of giggles at any moment, in the way you usually remember him talking. “When you do it, you have a precise reason in mind. And what’s nicer than sharing it?” He asked smiling, head tilting on one side, eyes glinting. 

It was so easy.

You kissed your friend on the cheek and called your aunt’s sweets because that was the best thing you could think of. 

You kissed your grandma’s wrist and whispered _patience_ because you were thankful that she sat with you and taught you how to stitch patches on your torn pants. 

You kissed your brother on the crown of his head and just feigned a sound of disgust so that he could do the same with you. 

You kissed your first girlfriend at sixteen and said with the most sensual tone you could muster _soup_ on her lips, you felt warm like when your mum made some when it was raining. It made you both laugh. (You said _soup_ again when you kissed lower, this time more similar to when you ate supper during the summer when the sun was scorching and you felt like melting on your bowl.)

You haven’t named your kisses for so long, you haven’t had anyone to give them to in so long. 

You kiss them, your lips meet softly. You both expected it at this point. It’s sickly, and they’ll make fun of you, with your face twisted in that expression of when embarrassment and something like happiness race to rest on their face. But you don’t really care, even if you play your part and play along, you get embarrassed and you hide in their shoulder. You think there’s something undeniably right about you two here, right now, in each other’s arms. Something undeniably yours.

You part enough to breath on their lips "forget-me-nots". It’s the first name that came to your mind. They’re your favorite flowers, ever since they fixed them into your hair all those months ago, saying they’d bring out the purple reflections in your hair. Since the moment you tried to turn them into a crown to rest on their hair, and despite it came out a mediocre job, or maybe because of it, you heard them laugh for the very first time your paths crossed.

You kiss their forehead and whisper _care_ , your stomach tightening at the mere thought they doubted even for once you loved them and how much that was true. 

You kiss their eyes and try your best to pronounce the hero’s name of those old fairytales they liked to babble about at night, tangled between the thick blankets, squished as close as possible to the heater and the warmth of your body, still missing the softer roll of the gutturals of their dialect. That hero, gentle and often out of place, who made you think of the forget-me-nots, so common to go unnoticed, just a little bluish spot on the roadsides, although they couldn’t help reminding you something so precious. The protagonist of their favorite fairytales, those of when they felt safe and let you into their memories, of when they wanted you to understand that they cared about you as much as you cared about them. 

You sensed their tears and kissed them too, their hands, woven until this moment with yours, hold their grip. And you called those little kisses _thanks thanks thanks_. Because you don't remember a day you weren't grateful for having met them. 

Of that day your dad sat you to explain how the names worked, you also recall him saying that the most important kisses he shared with your mother had her name. You thought of all the time your father draw with you at the big table in the kitchen, of how your mum complimented yours and sighed at your father's and said that he wasn't very creative, and how all of you three laughed hard at that. Sitting with your back straight so you could show that you were a big boy that you understood how serious those talks were, you thought your mum would have said something similar. She just stared at him and blushed a little, her most beautiful smile on display. You didn't understand and just swore in your head to make your name prettier. 

Now you are 26, and you think that there's nothing prettier than the sound of their name after you kissed their lips again. 

_Jeonghan_

_Jeonghan_

_Jeonghan_

These kisses are only theirs, you don't have any other word for this. For Jeonghan. You never felt for anyone something like this. 

You kiss their lips again, You release one of your hands to curl it in their hair, the grip you now feel on the back of your head says they did the same. With the other, still firmly intertwined, you caress their face. 

All this time you kept your eyes closed because you know their face by heart. And you wanted them to know that. To know you cherish them so much you can only ever think of them. 

You open your eyes now and see that their face is blurred, wet because you are crying too. 

You don't know what they are even thinking, about you spouting all these nonsense words. Somehow you never found a moment to tell them about this tradition of back home. 

And your are about to tell them about it. Between the overwhelming feeling of home and Jeonghan, you can see clearly that there aren’t polished lines. 

And maybe you get the words out, or maybe they could simply read from your eyes now open and fixed on theirs. Or... you don't know, but somehow they do understand, read your mind like they always bicker about with you.

They start the kiss this time, and you know the world, you recognize it, they say _home_ . They explained what this concept of _home_ meant. That your "home" was only yourself, and the people you let in. They were inviting you in. You can't help it, so you laugh. You loose balance, and you both end on the floor. You almost expect them to scold you. They just laugh with you. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me hear your thoughts :) (or if you have any prompts, that would be fun too)


End file.
